


soft & slow

by staalesque



Series: tumblr prompts [14]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, Flirting, M/M, Morning After, Sharing Clothes, Sleepy Cuddles, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-10-31 07:23:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17844974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/staalesque/pseuds/staalesque
Summary: “If you’re trying to start something, we don’t really have time right now,” Brad murmurs, running a hand down Torey’s back.“I’m notstartinganything, I’m trying to keep you from moving.”“Hmm, kinky.”“Bradley I swear to God.”





	soft & slow

**Author's Note:**

> hi i just got here, this was requested on tumblr and also inspired by a few select tweets...and then completely ignored lol
> 
> em i hope you enjoy it 💖

Contrary to popular belief, Brad is the one who wakes up first. He’s been spotted sleeping everywhere; the team plane, the team bus, various comfortable spots around their practice facility and TD Garden. But when given the chance to actually sleep in, he’s up first. It’s not that he’s a morning person; far from, actually. 9:00AM isn’t early by his standards, but with the way Torey constantly sleeps in, it might as well be 6. 

He doesn’t mind being up first. He gets to walk Fenway, just the two of them getting the mail, checking out various sights and sounds of the neighborhood. He gets to make the coffee his way - extra strong with about two cups of sugar in the pot to sweeten the deal. He gets to practice his guitar without fear of being overheard, because he is getting better but he’s still rather private about it. He gets to take up as much space on the couch as he wants to, Fenway curled on his chest, watching TV until Torey comes downstairs, calls him lazy, and tells him to do something with his life. 

He also gets to stay in bed, and watch the morning light come in, temporarily dyeing his brown hair a highlighted blond. He gets to see the way Torey sleeps balled up, with his hands under his chin. He gets to see the way the sleeves of Brad’s shirt hang too-long on his arms, revealing only his fingers peeking out at the end. He gets to see Torey - sleepy and soft and warm. 

This morning is one of the latter ones, where Brad’s content to laze around after letting Fenway out to the backyard, before bringing her back in and leaving her to her breakfast. He’s not wearing a shirt, braving the atmospheric cold of the lower levels of their house to instead curl up next to Torey’s lava-hot form. The defenseman hardly stirred as Brad slipped back under the covers. He did, however, rather purposefully grab Brad’s arm and pull it over him, clumsily patting his hand to tell him to keep it in place. He’d left his hand there, spread on Torey’s back, the two of them lying face to chest, with Torey burrowed against Brad’s broad frame. 

Because of how close they are, Brad feels it when Torey’s breathing changes, from the slow, steady deep breaths of sleep to a lighter, quicker pace. Here, Brad has a decision to make. 

He could begin the day ahead, chirping Torey before he has enough awareness to actually offer any combative words. He could sing, obnoxiously out of tune; he could tickle Torey; he could press his cold hands under his shirt and shock him awake. 

He chooses none of these, and waits until Torey finally lifts his head enough to look at him. His hair is actively trying to fly off his head, reaching towards the ceiling and swaying with his every movement as he blearily looks around. Pillow scars criss cross his cheek and neck, adding a gentle softness to the dark bites still lingering there from the night prior. His grey eyes look blue, thanks to their bedsheets, but also a faint gold, because of the sunlight directly in his eye, yet also a deep brown, because of the dark strands that fall from their perch, hanging down by his temple. 

This is Torey - disgruntled and confused and sluggish. He looks so stupid, and Brad has never felt more in love. 

He winces, makes a grumpy noise, and scoots closer to Brad, burying his face into Brad’s neck. He says something, that Brad more feels than actually hears.

“Care to repeat that?” 

Torey slings an arm over Brad’s chest, squeezing for a second, then hums. He turns his head to the side, his incredible crest of hair covering Brad’s mouth. “Hmm. Nope.” 

Brad makes a show of trying to get Torey’s hair under control, moving just enough that Torey is being constantly jostled, drawing more whines from him. Eventually, the younger of the two has enough, and slings a leg over Brad’s waist as well, trying to hold him still. 

“If you’re trying to start something, we don’t really have time right now,” Brad murmurs, running a hand down Torey’s back.

“I’m not  _ starting _ anything, I’m trying to keep you from moving.” 

“Hmm, kinky.” 

“Bradley I swear to God.”

“You did an awful lot of that last night, too.” 

That gets Torey to look up at him, grey eyes flat but still dazzling in tri-colored harmony. Brad’s retort dies on his tongue, his mouth instead shifting to a slow, crooked smile. Torey blushes, predictably, and ducks his head again.

Both of them can handle flirting, chirping, and any amount of casual ribbing; genuine emotion still gets the best of them, but Torey’s blushes make it worth it. The poor kid’s ears are fire red, and Brad can’t help the affectionate coo that slips out. 

“Shut up.” 

“Make me.” 

“What happened to not having enough time?” 

“Eh, we can make time.”

“Brad-”

“Yes?” 

Torey’s still blushing, but he’s determined this time. He shifts his weight, moving so he’s now fully straddling Brad, his arms braced on the pillow behind Brad’s head. It’s not a position, nor a view, that either of them are unfamiliar with.

It’s a little bit different with Brad’s already well worn shirt, usually stretched out to show his collarbones, now hanging just a bit too much off Torey’s shoulder, further exposing the bites from before. It’s a little bit different with Torey’s hair messed up from not just sex but from the simple act of sleeping. It’s a little bit different with Torey biting his lower lip, looking at Brad like he’s something desirable, like he’s something worth loving, and yeah. It’s a little bit different. 

“Later,” Torey declares, gently tapping Brad’s nose before he dismounts Brad and the bed, heading towards the bathroom.

“...Damn,” Brad mutters to himself, throwing his arm over his eyes. Yeah; he’s in love.

**Author's Note:**

> i definitely exaggerated torey's twink energy but you know what? that's okay 
> 
> comments make me smile 💛


End file.
